Someday At Christmas
by kayura sanada
Summary: 1x2. Maremaia is defeated, and now all that's left is to congratulate the hero. Except Duo wasn't the hero's romantic interest, and all that was left for him was to disappear into the background. Thankfully, that was what he did best. Christmas special for my beloved readers. Don't own, just play with.


Someday At Christmas

* * *

><p>He couldn't find him.<p>

After all the fighting and the usual freaking theatrics, Duo couldn't find the one damn person who should have been the most ostentatious after that ridiculous show of _blowing up the shielding_ around Maremaia's and Barton's hideout. After that, reporters and soldiers both should have surrounded him. But he couldn't find him anywhere. He saw the wreck that was the Wing Zero. And if he couldn't find any trace of Heero...

Well, he had to find him.

As soon as Maremaia's surrender was given, Preventers stormed the damn building and surrounding block. Duo thought only half the reason was to contain the rest of the rebels; the other half was to keep others from scooping up 'their' victory. As if Duo and the other pilots hadn't once again pretty much single-handedly taken care of all of the enemies themselves. 'Yeah, no, we just stopped the horde of mobile dolls and White Fang and, oh, stopped the Libra from destroying Earth, but yeah, no, it was a united effort with the colonists and others. And, oh, yeah, we pretty much took out Maremaia and Barton and their giant crew with nothing more than a small bit of assistance from Preventers, but yeah, no, thanks for the help, politicians. Definitely a joined effort there, as you all sat dithering while we actually took care of the problem. No, bravo. Bravo.'

The wreck that was the Wing Zero was visible from miles away, kneeling in front of the damn building Maremaia sat in like some sort of triumphant god taking its well-earned rest. But as Duo raced toward it, horrified at the idea of anyone being inside the thing with such wounds on it, he found the cockpit open. The tiniest glitch in the stability monitors, the tiniest crack in the damn sealing, and Heero would have gone up in flames. Had he managed to get out on his own, or was he dragged? Had he walked out on his own two feet, or had he crawled? Duo searched for footprints. Preventers swarmed the area around him then, making him twitchy enough to almost shoot some idiot who ran just this bit too close beside him. Une was among them, and Duo trailed after them like a lost dog, still searching the grounds. It was a lost cause, of course; the idiot Preventers had ruined any trace of Heero – or a freaking horde of Mongolians, for that matter.

The building was massive, and the only reason he hadn't immediately noticed that was because Wing Zero's presence eclipsed all else. Like an old estate, it had some weird courtyard thing splitting it like an oasis. Only just past the front door could you see, through the wide floor-to-ceiling windows, the stupid grass and trees and gardens that had once probably been perfectly ordered before the fighting but now looked like the gardener was going through a 'scarp it and start again' phase. There was even some weird ornate marble-like bench, oddly untouched amidst the chaos.

The Preventers all split off to search out anyone who'd been in the building before them, or maybe to find the princess, Duo thought, guiltily remembering that she had, indeed, been kidnapped. There were no obvious signs of someone having been dragged or forced inside. No blood. No destroyed objects that couldn't be explained by the barrier being blown to smithereens. No dead bodies.

More of them split off, and Duo was getting the uneasy feeling that he was chasing after someone potentially long gone. He'd been with Heero when it had all started, but it had just been a short arrangement. Actually, Duo had finally found the bastard and demanded the man put him up while he nagged Heero to not disappear like that again. It would not be even remotely surprising if Heero, near death and burned on over ninety percent of his body (unnatural immortal that he was), managed to crawl his ass out and disappear like smoke. Again.

He was starting to feel like a complete termite when Une came up to him and strode forward as if she knew exactly where she was going. So of course Duo followed.

Only a couple of Preventer agents followed Une, and since she didn't spare Duo so much as a glance, neither did they. She traveled down the opening foyer, past the windows and the doors into the courtyard, deeper into the estate, enough that the windows turned to those thin giant ones that screamed 'ostentatiously rich' and then into normal ones. And then they entered a windowless hall with expensive red carpeting, and Une opened a door.

Well, she was either a psychic or she had somehow already gotten a layout of the building before entering. Either way, they had certainly stumbled upon Barton and Maremaia's little war room. Duo hardly took in the large monitor on the far wall or the group of defeated soldiers hanging their heads or sitting on the floor. He couldn't take in Maremaia, standing stone-cold shocked in the middle of the room, or how Une raced toward the little brat. He barely took in Relena, just long enough to see she was fine, even though she was kneeling on the floor, and then his eyes caught on Heero.

Duo had never seen the man so beautiful. Or so vulnerable. Or so human. Leaning against Relena as if in some circle of peace. As if they were lovers. And Relena was petting his hair. And he wasn't waking up and glaring murder at her.

Duo turned right back around and walked out. Heero wasn't burnt or bleeding or drugged or dying. He was just tired. As well he should be, busting down the barrier after fighting and... and...

Well, he was tired and he was getting his rest, and Duo was the laughing sidekick and the laughing sidekick just kind of disappeared around the moment the climax ended.

So he just kind of disappeared.

* * *

><p>It was cold.<p>

He hated the cold. Not because it reminded him of the times with the rats, because those were hard times but that had just been par for the course when he'd been a kid, and if he tried, he could find some really good memories.

Nope. He just hated the damn cold. Cold sucked.

Cold also brought about that weird time of year when everybody talked about kindness and goodwill and usually yelled at each other a lot more often. Christmas, heralded as the time for white snow and holly and talking snowmen in magical top hats, also came with very bright lights and repetitive music. And Duo managed about five blocks from the Maremaia estate and its surrounding battlefield-slash-wasteland before he saw the damn lights all over lampposts and wreaths and store fronts and heard the music in every late-hour store window – and all of the stores seemed to be open despite the time. For one horribly pathetic moment, he wondered if he should go inside, pretend to mingle. And do what? Try to get information? He didn't need any. Shoplift? Didn't have anything he needed. Cohabit? Converse? He was definitely not in the mood to do any of that.

He wasn't girly. He wasn't pining. Hell, to pine, you had to have the imagination to believe you were losing something you could have had. But all that 'Heero'-'Relena' bullshit had made that a flimsy wish. It was just... well, even when you knew something, like you knew it was going to be a full moon on the night you needed to assassinate someone, it was still a kick in the face to see just how damn bright it was that night. Kind of like that. You know you're going to get a shit deal from that bastard Inevitability, but it doesn't change how much it stings when shit blows up in your face.

So he was pragmatically dealing with it by getting the hell away and considering just what it might be like to get stupidly drunk on some festival night. And pragmatically wondering if the bars were open, and if they were, just how late and how lenient toward minors getting themselves smashed. Maybe just steal the liquor?

Ugh. Too much work for not that much reward. He'd feel like shit in the morning and would still have to deal with that damn image of Heero leaning trustingly against Relena's damn shoulder. Bastard had never looked more gorgeous. If he'd never seen it, he could have been happy in that vague 'happy he's happy' kind of way, where they sent each other e-mails – well, he sent Heero e-mails and Heero probably added Duo's address to the 'Junk Mail' file – and maybe sent each other a card on the holidays. Holidays like today! Duo thought scathingly, and wondered if he would have been able to joke about this Christmas thing being their sort of anniversary.

Hmm. Maybe not.

But even that was out, because now Duo had that image ingrained in his damn head and nothing was getting it the hell out.

Pragmatically, maybe during this joyous festive season of Christmas trees and mistletoe (it seemed to be a holiday of greenery), it might be best if he simply downed himself a bottle or two. He could deal with Heero's unconscious beauty after that damn upbeat music stopped.

Streets were somehow filled with people as soon as he turned a corner into a shopping mall. Good grief, these people were really adamant about this gift-giving thing. Maybe he should have gotten something for the guys. Was there a point to doing that? It wasn't like they really saw each other anymore. And the idea of cheerfully handing over useless junk made him want to shrivel up. 'Hey, no, thanks, guys, gotta split. I have no idea how easy it is to steal liquor from a bar, and I really need to find out. Like, now.'

Pragmatically, maybe a good overdose of sleeping pills would work better. Those were easier to grab.

It took a while, but he managed to get past the giant group of shoppers completely uncaring of the battle that had just ended... and walked smack-dab into an intersection with a giant television set up. A television broadcasting the news that the battle with Maremaia and Barton was over. Whee. Yippee. Hooray. There were absolutely no pictures of the Gundams or their pilots, and Duo was both relieved and pissed off. Relieved because hey, they'd gotten enough bad press, and he didn't feel like people staring at him like that again any time soon. But pissed because there they were, showing shots of Une and the Preventers, lauding their brave actions against the militia threat. Barf. Gag.

For people wielding giant-ass weapons of mass freakin' destruction, Gundam pilots seemed more like stealth assassins than soldiers.

And, you know, it wasn't like he'd done it for anything but peace, but would it be too much to ask to get a thank you?

Nah. Let's just watch the guy he's unhealthily obsessed with cuddle with the blond princess. Merry Christmas!

Duo turned from the stupid screen and walked some more. A few more blocks, and it was like the battle had never freaking happened; while at least some of the shoppers had had the decency to watch the news and stare wide-eyed at the end of the shortest uprising in human history (thanks wholly to Preventers, yeah, sure, definitely), nobody three blocks down seemed to be watching shit. The stores also seemed less popular, more mom and pop shops than giant convenience stores filled with copy-paste gifts. Duo finally walked into one, because, hell, _cold_.

He regretted it almost instantly. The place was tiny, only a slim line like the space of a large living room and dining room, an it seemed like the only things sold in the entire damn store were weird masks like from masquerade balls. A far too friendly woman came beaming up to him. He froze. He still smelled like smoke and oil and probably a bit like dead people, maybe. The lady stopped one half-step from too close. "Hello! My name is Lydia. How may I help you today?"

Duo's mouth opened. Closed. His brain twisted and turned on itself as he realized that his desire to stop wandering aimlessly should have stopped back at the damn convenience stores, where the service couldn't be assed to look at you, let alone greet you and give you their damn names. "Hi," he said finally. "Um, just looking. Thanks."

"Sure! The masks on the right tables are twenty percent off." And the woman walked away, her gaze still on him. Duo realized in horror that he was the only damn patron in the entire store. Fuck.

Oh, liquor store. Where are you hiding?

Duo trailed around like an idiot while Helpy McHelper talked with her male friend behind the counter. Two people in a store. What. The. Fuck. The masks were pretty enough, he supposed, if people were actually into that sort of thing. It might have actually been a fun gift for Relena – and a hilarious gift for Heero, good god, the very idea of it nearly had him smiling – but it reminded him _again_ of that damn picture they made, and he just said a mental 'fuck it' and left again.

He would have to meet with Quatre at some point during this stupid roundabout trip through the colony. There was no doubt the man would want to get them all together again to once more get rid of their Gundams or... or something. And he was certain Hilde would want to hear he was okay.

But he just couldn't think of responsibilities right then. Let someone else take care of them, just once. Let someone else load Deathscythe and cart him away somewhere; Quatre or Trowa could do it, or most likely together, since the two were 'secretly dating'. Why not? They could secretly date while secretly stashing a giant mobile suit. Duo just couldn't deal with it right then.

And Hilde would be worried, but she'd be fine. At least for a few more hours. Until morning, or late afternoon, if he ever got around to finding that damn liquor store. Or bar.

Duo warmed up enough that continuing to idle like a dumbass was going to do nothing but make it even more awkward when it became apparent he had no desire – or money – to buy the stupid masks. He slid out when the girl started giving some sort of heated advice to the man.

Argh. Cold again.

He ran a hand through his bangs. Okay. So. If he were a liquor bar, where would he hide?

* * *

><p>All of the liquor was hidden behind the damn counter. He'd shot some pool with a couple of men who had seemed angry they'd been left alone that night (apparently it was a big deal to be alone on Christmas Eve?). Duo was left to take only a couple of twenties before they left, grumbling about their luck. He didn't bother wasting the money on the liquor there, however; better to find a store and grab some bottles than get only a couple of drinks. So off he went, money in pocket, to try to find some serious alcohol. And then, lo, he finds himself in a much smaller, more dilapidated shopping mall, and there's the liquor store – right next to a pawn shop. And because he'd stupid as all hell's bells (and saw something that looked like his baby 'scythe), he stepped inside.<p>

And yes. Someone was selling little figurines of the Gundams. And they were way more expensive than forty bucks.

He _wanted_ them.

The pawn broker looked angry that Duo had come in – the man had been about to close up, oh, boo hoo – so at least Duo didn't have that overly friendly crap going on. He bit his lip and looked at the things. Too bad. Wanting hadn't ever really meant much of anything, anyway.

Ha ha. Aaaand back to the mental picture of The Perfect Couple. He seriously needed that liquor.

He left the broker to close up and spent his hard-earned cash on two cases of rum and a small bottle of vodka.

He downed the vodka as soon as he left the damn store.

* * *

><p>He was suuuper drunk by the time he found the park.<p>

Yay! Park. Empty, desolate, dark park. Perfect for being alone. Even better for getting mugged, and Duo _really_ needed that kind of fight. Like, really, really needed it. Very badly. Super badly. By the way, he did not understand why people complained about getting drunk. It was awesome. Really, he should get drunk more often. Maybe not like alcoholic drunk – although the reasons why escaped him at the moment – but definitely drunk maybe two, three times a day – week. He meant week. Maybe.

He made it through the open field – soccer field? Yeah, soccer field – and reached some thin patch of trees. He thought he could see houses through the higher branches. He leaned against a tree and sucked down the last of his rum. Damn. All gone. Maybe he should have stolen some when he'd been in the damn liquor store. Why go legitimate? He was a freakin' thief. Why not steal another bottle? Just one more. Almost. _Almost_, he'd gotten to that point, that blessed point where he couldn't see it anymore. No more huggles between Her Prettiness and Mr. Perfect. No more long neck, long eyelashes, long-limbed body limp trustingly against her. Fuck.

Fuck. It wasn't gone yet.

He found himself on the ground before he quite knew his legs were collapsing beneath him. Yeah, huh. Grass. He touched it, let it tickle his fingers.

He wasn't mad. He wasn't even hurt. He didn't even know what he was. Maybe that was what the liquor did for people? Numbed it, took it all away for a while. Yeah, he could definitely live with that. Numbness. Because maybe he should be hurting, just a little bit. Because who was it who always chased Heero down, never let him be alone? Who was it who made the man give up that little grin? Who fought by his side, made him believe he didn't have to fight through the war all alone? Who was it who stuck by Heero no matter what? Who was it who had loved him with more than blind hero worship, who saw all his bad points before even seeing a sliver of his good points and still somehow managed to fall in love with him? Who?

The plucky sidekick, that's who.

"Fuck you!" Duo shouted to the air. He highly doubted Heero heard him. If there were homeless people in the woods, they might at least understand. He might not even be shouting it at Heero. He might be shouting it at Shinigami, or god, or just life in general. Didn't drunk people do things like that? He wondered if it did anything for them. Well, only one way to find out. "You're a dick! And you suck! So what if she's pretty and important and shit? She's _pink_. Nothing but pink, and you suck for wanting pink instead of black because black is a much cooler color!"

He thought his words might be a little garbled, but it wasn't like he was actually trying to get someone to listen. He was shouting for himself. And for the record, all it did was make him feel worse. Because she _was_ pretty, and she _was_ important, and maybe she was exactly what Heero needed.

Which meant Duo was the _last_ thing Heero needed.

"That sucks," he said, and actually hiccuped. Might want to lower the amount of times a week simply due to the loss of dignity factor. Hiccuping ruined a man's coolness.

But then again, he was drunk in a tiny woods off the edge of a park in the middle of bumfuck after having battled against a little girl's army, so maybe dignity didn't really factor in to anything at the moment.

Duo heard footsteps then and tilted his head. A part of him actually worried that one of the guys had found him, and though he'd dumped the little vodka bottle and the other rum bottle... somewhere, he still had the last bottle as evidence (and he probably smelled like something really, really bad – and drunk), and if one of them saw him acting like a loser, the least of his problems would be one of them asking him if something was wrong. But a few moments later, he decided it wasn't a pilot. Even at their most conspicuous, they didn't clomp around like that. (Unless they were drunk? He didn't really know how loud or obnoxious he'd been recently. Apparently being drunk dimmed one's awareness. Which, oh, darn. No. How horrible.)

It took him a while, longer than it should have, to realize that not only were the footsteps multiple, they were also headed his way. He thought about getting up, hiding, running. Then he just said "fuck it" and leaned more against his tree. What were they going to do, fight him off? Although maybe ingesting so much alcohol wasn't really the best prelude to fighting. Oh, well. He could maybe probably possibly still take them. Whoever they were. If they even wanted to fight.

He looked up when the footsteps stopped right in front of him. Even dead drunk and slipping a little into black, he could tell pretty much immediately that they definitely wanted to fight. It was the two idiots he'd beaten at the bar.

"Hey! Lookie here. This bastard's nothin' but a fuckin' drunkard." Duo struggled to his feet before Goatee could act on his nonverbal threat to spit on him. It was slow, awkward going. He actually needed to grab the tree to steady himself. But he got to his feet before Goatee stepped into his space, so it was enough of a victory for him. He grinned. "You wasted our money, fucker," the man said.

Duo's grin widened. "Man, you have no idea how bad I've needed this fight." And he grabbed the man's arm, twisted it around until the man showed him his back, and kicked the man's knee out so he knelt on the ground. Then he looked up to Goatee's clean-shaven friend. "Please fight me."

The man fumbled out an exacto knife. Duo's grin turned feral.

He had to give up his hold on Goatee when Clean-Shaven came after him, only because he recognized a weird fogginess in him that left him stumbling like a damn baby when he moved away from the tree. Thank everything! If he'd been at his best, the fight would have been over before it had even begun; now he could enjoy an actual challenge. Why had he never gotten drunk before? It was the best thing ever!

He realized he'd nearly fallen only when he found his arms windmilling. Clean-Shaven took the chance to get a good slice on his arm. He winced and pulled back. Of course, maybe it would have been best to only drink one bottle of rum. His head was really starting to spin.

He put his bad hand – left – to his head and squinted, trying to focus. Clean-Shaven was coming after him again. He thought he could see Goatee getting up. It was still pretty dark out, hella dark out, and the line of trees created deeper, darker shadows. He blocked Clean-Shaven's next swing, but stumbled back at the force of it. Okay. Maybe he was in a little over his head.

Good. Great. That would make it even better when he won.

He stopped trying to use his damn senses and went on instinct. Fuzzily he charged forward, ignoring the fact that Clean-Shaven was swinging his knife again, and remembered that exacto knives were sharp only on one side, and flimsy. He let the guy swing, grabbed blearily around, and managed to catch hold of the man's shirt. Because the guy was a complete novice, he didn't jerk away, twist Duo's wrist, or even rip his shirt to get free, but instead raised his hand to try for a fourth swipe. Duo punched him. It hurt; his arm hadn't straightened and his wrist had gone a bit weak, but it connected, and though the man's shirt ripped under his hold, he punched again.

Then he noticed the man's knife was descending on his arm, and he barely let go before the man suddenly dropped like a stone.

Duo managed to blink. He also might have made a weird noise.

Someone stood in front of him. He blinked a few more times, because he did not think it was Goatee, but that didn't make sense, because no one else had been around.

And then his mind, giving up on reason completely, registered the form before him like some sort of ridiculous romance book thing. But it didn't alter after a few more moments, and when he squinted, yep, there was that hair. "H'ro?"

Ah, there was the garbled language. He'd known it was a bit distorted.

"Duo, what exactly is wrong with you?"

He just blinked and swayed a bit. "'M drunk."

"Yes, I know that. I gathered it from you drinking two and a half bottles of liquor."

Duo blinked some more. He wasn't mad! He wasn't even sad! Alcohol was awesome! "Yeah, well. Shut up."

Heero sighed. "Can you make it to the street? I'll try to hail a cab."

As if there would be a cab at the edge of the park so late at night! Especially one willing to stop for Mr. Murderous. Hehe. Consonance. And lookie, a big word while drunk. Yay. He stumble back until he hit a tree. "Nope. Stayin' here." And he slid down to the ground. "Go 'way."

He fucking hiccuped again. Dammit.

Then he furrowed his brow. He looked at his hand. It was empty now. Where'd he drop the bottle? He looked around, then back up at Heero. "I only had one."

Heero went from canvassing the damn park to frowning down at him. "What?"

"I only had one," he said, slower this time, in case his garbled language was worse than he thought. It probably was. Didn't most drunk people talk like others could understand them when really they couldn't? "One bottle. Not two. How'd you know I had two?" He sat and thought about it while Heero stood quietly, not tense, not angry, not anything. Hey, maybe he was drunk, too. Maybe he'd gone out looking for a liquor store.

But if he had, why would he be there in the park with Duo? Oh. "You followed me."

"I did."

Duo frowned. Shook his head. The black at the corner of his vision was getting darker. "Tha's dumb. You were sleeping. I left."

"I know you did. When I woke up, Une told me you'd been there. I went out to find you."

"Tha's also dumb. You were sleepin' with th' princess." Duo yawned. The tree was a little uncomfortable, but he'd slept in worse spots. "Go 'way."

Heero sighed again. "Stay here." He left for a moment, and Duo wondered if maybe he'd imagined the whole thing. That would be great. He could just go to sleep in the middle of nowhere, and when he woke up, he could deal with... with everything. Call Hilde. Talk to Qat about Deathscythe. ...Send a card, maybe, to Heero, or something. Move on with his fuckin' life. Move forward. Forward, forward, forward, ever forward, just rolling along like it mattered.

Ew. Maudlin much?

Then, through tiny little sounds like grass swaying, Heero returned. Well. So much for that dream.

Duo frowned and tilted his head. He thought he could see a bag in Heero's hand. "Wha's tha?"

"You're too drunk. Get up."

Too drunk to know what's in the damn bag? That's stupid. It was just some stuff in a bag. "You followed me, but you bought something?" He gasped. "Did you get somethin' from tha mask shop? 'Cause, oh, no. I meant it as a gag gift. Y'know? I'd heard abou' gag gifts. You don' actually like those things, do you? 'Cause that would be weird. Those masks were weird."

Heero actually snorted. He shifted, and the bag rustled. "No, I don't like the masks. And what were you doing in there, anyway?"

Heero bent down and grabbed Duo's arm, forcing him to stand again. He leaned heavily onto his other side, away from Heero, and nearly slipped back to the dirt. He hung for a moment like a recalcitrant child, one arm gripped in Heero's hand while he leaned listlessly away. It was wholly thanks to Heero that he ended up somehow on his own two feet. "I uh-uh," he said, trying to say 'I dunno' and failing. He settled for a shrug. "Was cold. Was warm. Shoulda done it sooner; freakin' tiny shop. Creepy nice lady." He shuddered. "Wha's with this holiday, anyway? Stupid. Sucks." Heero tensed for a second as Duo swayed dangerously. "Everyone gets presents but me. Us? You get presents? Didn' even get time on the air. 'Preventers,' they said. Like we don' exist. No room for li'l Duo Maxwell."

Ew, more maudlin crap. He grimaced. "I think I need another drink. Just until I shut up."

"No," Heero said. He started leading Duo away. Duo nearly faceplanted. Heero sighed and wrapped Duo's arm around his shoulder. He was warm. Duo could feel Heero's muscles shift slightly as he bent down and wrapped his now-free arm around Duo's waist. When Heero moved forward, Duo actually managed one stumbling step. "No more drinking. At least not until you learn to only do it indoors, out of danger, where I can keep an eye on you."

Duo's heart suddenly made a very annoying, very loud, very _painful_ reappearance. "No. One more drink. Still hurts."

Heero frowned and checked Duo up and down. "Your wounds?"

Wounds? "Wha? No, stupid. Doesn' matter. Whatever. Happy for you. Well, not now. Drinks make you numb, didja know? Great. They're great. Love 'em. But later. Later happy. Numb now."

Heero was silent then, and Duo didn't know if it was because Heero hadn't understood or if he couldn't think of a response to drunken rambling. Or maybe he was scoping out the damn area as he led Duo further; it would be just like the man to treat getting Duo to a cab like they were back in the damn Oz compound. "Congrats, by th' way," he said lowly, once they were firmly planted in the soccer field again. "F'r gettin' the barrier down." He tried to wave a hand, nearly fell, watched the world spin, and suddenly felt something else churn. He pushed at Heero once, twice, before the fucker got it and let Duo go. He managed to fall to his hands and knees before he threw up all over the damn field. It brought on a slamming headache from the general vicinity of his entire skull. He moaned. Now he maybe understood the downside of the whole liquor thing.

What a waste of food.

If he weren't in such sudden and immense pain, he would have laughed at the inane thought. Probably.

Heero actually bent down beside him, and after heaving all over again, he realized Heero was holding his braid out of the mess. It made him want to punch the bastard. How did he not see that such odd tenderness was exactly the problem? Duo had fallen in love with the kindness behind the sadistic stoicism. Bastard. Gorgeous fucker. Asshole. He'd be more inventive if he weren't in such pain.

"Come on," Heero said. "Let's at least get you to a hotel."

Hotel? Duo spat out the last of the shit in his mouth and nearly fell into his own vomit. Wonderful. Beautiful. Dignity definitely left a person at the door of a liquor store. If he didn't have Heero around, he might not have cared (as much). But of course Heero was there because that was his fucking luck.

He let Heero drag him up again, nearly losing it all over again as the world spun upside down and around. Their progress was even slower then. If Duo wasn't hurling his stomach out through his throat, he was nearly comatose in Heero's arms. By the time they reached the edge of the field, there was a tinge of gray in the sky. Pre-dawn. Merry fucking Christmas, everyone. The fat man in red hath cometh.

Duo did not see just how Heero managed to hail a cab there on the edge of the park in the fake light of pre-dawn. He very happily and gratefully passed out.

* * *

><p>He thought he knew Remorse. He thought he understood it, had touched it and hugged it and even kissed it on the lips once or twice.<p>

He buried his face deeper into the toilet of the hotel and swore he'd just gotten to home base with the conniving bastard for the first time in his life.

Heero sat by the bed, staring annoyingly at that damnable laptop of his as Duo tried to puke up his intestines until he finally tasted his own ass. If that wasn't what he was tasting already. And oh, if Heero was saying anything to him amidst all the puking, even if he shouted above the hotel's cheap-ass bathroom fan, he wouldn't know. Why? Because that horrible migraine from the night before, which he only vaguely recalled, had returned with reinforcements. It was like he was back on the battlefield, only minus his Deathscythe. Beam rifle fire drilled constantly against his cranium. Even his spine felt the tremors of the damn strain. Or maybe that was from leaning against the toilet for nearly an hour.

Maybe he wouldn't go drinking every week. Maybe not every month. Maybe not even every year.

Maybe not ever, ever again.

Ever.

…

_Ever_.

The worst part – or perhaps best? He didn't know – was that Heero had apparently gotten over that strange friendliness from the night before. (He was positive Heero had been nice; he'd beaten up someone and helped Duo to the apartments somehow and had even bandaged a wound on Duo's arm that he'd, according to Heero, gotten during the fight Duo hardly remembered.) Now Heero ignored Duo and his self-inflicted misery, and if Duo dared throw up too loudly, Heero would call out something in the tone of voice that said 'you deserve this, you fucking moron.' Of course, Duo couldn't quote exactly what Heero said because crappy fan and _evil beam rifles_. But he was positive he'd gotten close to verbatim.

He rested his head for a moment on the damn lip, heedless of the countless people-germs all over the infested thing. How many people had decided to drown their memories in alcohol and then come to this hotel room? Or even tried to piss and miss, blargh. But it probably didn't matter what nasty diseases he caught, because if the damn aftereffects of getting drunk didn't kill him soon, he would just take a bullet to the brain to make the aching stop.

He heard Heero's footsteps again and drolly turned his head to the door. Or it would have been drolly if it hadn't been so painful and defeated. Heero, of course, looked down on him, completely uncaring of Duo's agony. Dick. "Have you learned your lesson?"

"Just for that: no." Then he turned and contemplated the mess still in the toilet. Was it safe to flush again, or should he just wait for the inevitable encore performance? "Shouldn't you be out wooing your girl?"

Heero snorted. "I am."

Duo cast him a look. "Da fuck?"

Well, he wasn't spewing up his liver just yet, so he went ahead and flushed and then very, very slowly got to his feet. Time to try brushing his teeth for the third time that morning. Was it morning? Afternoon? Fuck it; he didn't care.

He turned on the sink as Heero just watched his every damn move. "You do know," he said, cupping his hand under the water, "e-mails and texts do not a wooing make."

He managed a mouthful of water without making a dive for the john, so he went again and dared to gargle. Still nothing but pitiful mourning from his stomach. Sweet. He reached for his toothbrush, then hesitated as his stomach flipped and flopped all over the place. He pressed against the edge of the sink.

Heero took one tiny step into the warzone. "You mentioned this before. A few times. That Relena and I are an item."

His stomach started to settle, but Heero's words made it clench right the fuck up again. He grimaced. "Yeah, man, I'm sure I have." Another gargle, and he went for the toothbrush because, hey, it would keep him from talking. And that would probably be really good right now. "So?" He put only the tiniest bit of toothpaste on at first. A dot. Then he wiped half of that off. No sense poking the damn dragon.

"I believe I told you once that it wasn't like that."

Duo tried to remember if that was a conversation point last night. He didn't think so. Of course, things got hazy somewhere between rum bottle number one and rum bottle number two. "Uh huh."

"Back during the war," Heero said. As if prompting.

Duo stuck the damn toothbrush in his mouth, because many stupid words were gathering on his tongue. His stomach jumped. He froze.

"I told you that she was following me. I hadn't asked her to."

Duo gritted his teeth. "'At's no' a' a'mission o' a'ything," he said, speaking around his toothbrush. If that was what Heero was talking about, then the man had best be happy Duo felt like absolute shit. If he didn't he might have been gunning for another damn fight. And this time, he wouldn't be polite enough to play by Heero's rules. He'd fight dirty.

"I told you I wasn't interested from the start," Heero said, lips thinning. Making things very annoying and sexy, the fucker.

"'ings change," he said, spitting out the damn toothpaste as his stomach roiled all over again. After a few moments, it settled. Duo wasn't sure if it was because of the toothpaste or the damn topic. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Why do you think I'm with her? Why are you still making those jokes? I left. I left all of you behind, including her."

Well, ouch. Duo had to grip the sink again. He heard the cheap toothbrush snap in his hand. Fuck. "Okay, so, what? You're single? And collapsing on her was just, what? Super-friendly?"

He didn't bother looking over at Heero that time. He just turned the water back on. At least the streaming pound of the water dulled the noise of the fan, if not the raging battlefield inside his noggin. He remembered, like nothing else from last night, the blessed feeling of _nothing_. Even seeing the picture in his mind, he hadn't felt cheated or bitter or resentful. He hadn't felt _hurt_. He'd thought he wouldn't, because he'd never really believed he'd had a chance in hell. So like both sexes just fine, but Heero seemed oblivious to any sex, or even the word sex, and if he did, what were the chances he'd be interested in men, and then interested in Duo? Nah. So no way, no how. No luck. Sorry for your shit, Duo, pack up and go home.

But maybe it had been shock? Or some old street kid thing, hide it and bury it until you're safe, and even then, maybe bury it a little deeper. It wasn't like he was in love with Heero. Or, well, if he was, then he was totally fucked, so he _couldn't_ be in love with Heero. Survival skills demanded he not be. But even if he wasn't – even _though_ he wasn't – it wasn't like he could just switch the feelings off. Not sober, anyway. So he'd instinctively ducked and run and hidden, and he'd found himself the best place for it.

Maybe, if he hadn't woken up with that damn clacking sound, Heero's fingers flying over the keyboard as Duo rolled over and tried to die, maybe he wouldn't be feeling this way. Maybe he wouldn't be thinking, 'oh, hell, here I am again, trapped in this tiny two-bed room with Heero sitting at the table drilling holes into his keyboard, he wouldn't be going over it again. He could just suffer his hangover alone, in silence, swearing to anything in the room that he would never be so stupid ever again.

"Look. It's not my business, and as I said last night – did I say it last night?" He thought about it for a second, then decided it didn't matter. "I'm happy for you."

"You said you felt numb."

"Yeah, the liquor was really great before the throwing up bit." He grimaced and reached again for the toothpaste. "But I'm not numb anymore."

Heero stared at him for a while. Duo tried to ignore it and brush his teeth. "Come here."

Duo cast the man a sideways glance. Then he looked pointedly down to his toothbrush, nearly crossing his eyes to do so. Then he looked back. Heero turned and left the room.

Duo sighed and, toothbrush still in his mouth, followed.

The hotel room looked absolutely perfect save for the bed Duo had laid in. That particular area looked like it had been attacked by a swarm of Goldilock's cousins, and each of them in a fit of temper had torn the poor bed to shambles. Heero, of course, skipped over Duo's mess as if it didn't exist – much as he did Duo himself – and sat on his own bed. But in a fit of insanity, he actually closed his laptop. Duo's jaw nearly dropped.

"Sit down," Heero ordered.

Duo stood gaping at him, toothbrush bending dangerously on his lip.

"Now, Duo."

Duo stepped forward based solely on instinct, because that tone of voice usually led to broken bones. But then he stopped, because maybe he could avoid those broken bones if he ran far enough fast enough. Could he make it to the door and open it before Heero got to him, or should he try to run past Heero to the window? He belatedly realized this hotel room was not the most advantageous.

Heero sighed. He turned around and reached behind the bed – perfect chance to run! Unless it was a trap? – and grabbed something. Duo heard some shuffling sound of plastic, and then a bag sat in Heero's hand as he sat up again. Duo warred with himself. Was Heero going to show off the contents of the mystery bag, or was it a trick? Was he using Duo's curiosity against him?

It was fiendishly clever, because it was working.

"Duo."

Duo jumped. He barely managed to grab the toothbrush before it slapped against the floor. Some flecks of toothpaste were sacrificed to the act. "Eh?"

Heero opened the bag, turned one nearly baleful glare on him, and slipped a hand inside. Duo watched as Heero pulled out the Deathscythe figure Duo had been looking at, then the Wing figure. Sandrock. Shenlong. Heavyarms.

Duo's jaw really did drop. The toothbrush slapped against the floor. Oh, well. They had another, less broken one in the hotel drawer. "Wha...?"

"You were staring at them," Heero said, as if that explained anything. Duo just stared at the little figures. They were gorgeous. It was like he could feel the echo of the Gundams' souls in each one.

They'd also been stupidly expensive. Like, ostentatiously expensive. The kind of expensive used just to brag about how expensive they'd been.

Duo looked at Heero. "Where did you – I mean, if you had that much money, you could have put a down payment on a damn apartment!"

"Lowe left me more than enough," Heero said quietly, "and I've had it long enough – this isn't much."

_Heero was rich?!_

Duo wanted to punch him.

Heero carefully set each figure on the endtable, even going so far as to move the phone onto the floor to do so. And then he looked at Duo. "I did not spend money on these frivolously."

Oh, no? Just bought them to decorate his new home? Wedding present for the princess? No, Christmas, of course! Let's spend hundreds of dollars on some stupid little Christmas present for the plucky sidekick! Awesome idea! Well, unless it wasn't a Christmas gift? Then what? Birthday? Didn't know it. What else was there?

Farewell gift?

"Duo."

Duo jerked. Heero stood from the bed, facing Duo levelly. Duo cleared his throat and found some toothpaste still in his mouth. He swallowed it. "Uh?"

"Do you know the word subtext?"

Duo scowled. "Yes! Just because I'm a street rat." What. A dick. A rich dick.

Heero sighed. "Then how can you not understand what this means?" Heero spread out a hand to indicate the statues. "Are you blind?"

Duo opened his mouth to snap another insult or three when his mind stilled on what he'd first thought the statues to be. A wedding gift. To Relena, which he'd thought was Heero being completely oblivious and kind of dumb, but might also mean something else entirely. A wedding gift – for Duo.

Then he burst out laughing. "Yeah, right!" he crowed. He managed to cover his mouth and hide the worst of the bitterness in his smile. "So, hold on, what is this supposed to be, exactly?"

Heero looked just as stoic as ever, but his hand dropped to his side. "What do you think it is?"

Mean. Mean, because even though Duo knew there was absolutely no chance, he was still hoping for it. Painfully, painfully hoping for it. And he hated hope worst of all. "Do you like me, Heero?"

Heero glared at him. "Yes. I do."

Duo opened his mouth for the retort he'd been planning, but for the millionth time that morning (afternoon?), it ended up flapping open like a curtain in a breeze. He finally managed to snap it shut. "Sorry?"

Heero raised his chin like he faced a firing squad. "I've cared about you since you dared to make fun of me at the Sweepers'. I've cared deeply since I saw you on the news with the word 'execution' under your picture. I've loved you since you found me when I decided I needed to heal alone."

Duo sat down on the floor.

It was impossible. There was no way. Even if Heero turned out to be gay... what were the chances? What...

"And if your actions since we met are anything to go by," Heero said, "you've been in love with me for even longer."

Duo covered his mouth and blamed the hangover for the desire to cry.

Then he stood up, rushed to the toilet, and threw up some more.

When he finally stopped dry heaving, he quickly sat up, wrenched on the tap, and gargled like his life depended on it. He held up a finger as footsteps entered the doorway. It took another minute to find a toothbrush and force himself to lather on the toothpaste, and even though his stomach writhed and gurgled and hissed at him, he managed to finish and just dumped the damn toothbrush in the sink.

He turned to find that familiar victorious smirk on Heero's face, but for the first time ever, he could lean in and kiss it off him.

He didn't care about Christmas. He didn't believe in miracles. All that mattered was that Heero cupped his hands around Duo's cheeks and kissed him the hell back.

Fuck impossible. They were Gundam pilots. They won impossible battles every day.


End file.
